


Just Another New Year's Eve

by cvioleta



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Even demons have weak moments, F/M, Mazifer, Men are annoying, New Year's Eve, She really should just kill him but he's so fricken hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 03:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17256698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvioleta/pseuds/cvioleta
Summary: A little one shot set between Seasons 3 and 4.  Why is Maze still fixing Lucifer's problems?  Even she doesn't know, but maybe he's not as clueless about her as she thinks.





	Just Another New Year's Eve

                From the balcony, she could see every nook and cranny of Lux as the young and beautiful of Los Angeles partied their way into another new year.  The music was so loud she could feel the beat in her chest, but that was what the clientele wanted. They gyrated on the dance floor, toasted to their dreams and goals at the bar, and some found dark corners to do things they really _shouldn’t_ be doing in public. 

                Not that Maze cared what they did.  She’d done worse, and with some of the very people she watched tonight.  All she would have to do was walk down those stairs and she knew everyone’s eyes would be on her.  Tonight her hair was in waves, flowing around her shoulders, and she wore an iridescent purple dress that fit like a second skin with silver stiletto sandals.  It was L.A., and there were many beautiful women in the room, but she knew she’d always had that indefinable quality that drew men and women alike to her like a magnet.  And yet – she had no desire to walk down those stairs.  She stayed above, alone, looking down at what had once been her playground, and feeling – old. 

                The thought startled her.  Obviously, she _was_ old, older than any human would ever live to see, but given that her physical form didn’t age and she was free from the aches and pains they suffered as their bodies wore out, she’d never paid any attention to the concept.  Physically, she felt fine, but tonight she felt like she was over all of it.   She’d had been called earlier that afternoon by Bria, the club’s current manager, who was having a panic attack about a malfunctioning sound system, a missing shipment of vodka, and the fact that Lucifer wasn’t picking up his phone – not in that order.  While Maze didn’t technically work at Lux anymore, it was always understood that she would show up and fix a crisis.  _Good old reliable Maze._ She stared across the space at the mirrored wall, half expecting to see silver hair and wrinkles, a more accurate visage that would reveal itself just as Lucifer’s true form had begun to appear whether he wanted it to or not. 

                She poured herself another drink and considered the current situation.  Chloe had reacted to Lucifer’s real face by taking Trixie to visit her grandmother.  Lucifer was somewhere, no doubt brooding and pouting or perhaps drowning his sorrows in showgirls.  Linda was holed up with Amenadiel as they tried to sort things out and find a solution to the recent drama in a reasonable, logical way that made Maze want to scream, and anyway, she wasn’t about to hang out with a couple that wasn’t interested in being a triad – third wheel was not her style.  Ella was – well, she wasn’t about to hang out with Ella, so, non-issue.  Anyway, it didn’t matter, as she’d just observed, if she didn’t want to be alone tonight, plenty of company of any variety she craved was twenty steps away. 

                She just didn’t know what she was in the _mood_ for. 

                And, at the moment, they all looked so fucking juvenile. It would have been nice to share a drink right now with someone who could appreciate her perspective, but that was a narrow category, indeed.  

                Why was she even here anyway?  Why did it matter if Lucifer’s club had a terrible night? It wasn’t like he needed the money. It totally _did not even matter_ if the business went under.  Yet here she was, riding in like the Our Lady of Nightclubs to save the day. 

                _Well, I didn’t really have anything better to do, and I did save the day._

                Briefly, she toyed with the idea of going out and raising hell, as the mortals called it.  Easy enough to do, especially tonight.  Start some fights, liven things up a bit, put a Tesla into somebody’s pool in Beverly Hills.  Lucifer would be angry, especially if she wound up on TMZ again as had happened in the past – if you’re going to mess with someone’s lame relationship, more fun to mess with the A list – but why did she care if he was angry?  He didn’t care if _she_ was angry. 

                She slammed back the rest of her drink and re-filled it.  She should be going down those stairs and doing any one of a number of things tonight, the most exciting night of the year down here, but she felt stuck, unable to move, and too impatient to deal with humankind. The only thing that really appealed was throwing one through a wall, and there was no one handy who deserved it.  So here she stood, drink in hand, in the semi-dark, looking down on the party below her.

                Things were well under control downstairs, sadly so.  None of their guests had so much as gotten in a fight, and it was past midnight, so the crowd was starting to thin out. Maybe she’d just sleep here.  Immortal or not, driving home on New Year’s Eve in Los Angeles was just asking to be hit by a drunk driver and she liked her car in its current shiny and unblemished state. 

                _Excuses, excuses. You just like sleeping in your old bed._

Maybe she did, but it hardly mattered.  No one else was in it, and she’d certainly earned the right to a good night’s rest after all the fires she’d put out here today. 

                She finished her drink and, with a last look at the club, turned and took the elevator up to the penthouse.  The door slid open into darkness except for the twinkling lights of the city beyond and she kicked off her shoes just inside the door. 

                Silently, she padded to the refrigerator to get the bottle of water that she’d no doubt wake up at four a.m. needing.  She swung open the door and wrinkled up her nose.  _Ugh, whether human or divine, men just couldn’t master throwing things out that were past their due dates and growing fuzzy._ Maze extricated a bottle of water that didn’t seem to have touched anything too disgusting and walked to their – _his_ , she corrected herself, bedroom.  She pushed open the curtains that surrounded the area but stepped back in surprise when she saw the lit end of a cigarette glowing in the dark.

                She was immediately angry, no, not angry, _furious_.  “Lucifer! What the hell are you doing here?”

                The cigarette moved in the dark.  “Mazie, darling, I live here.”  His tone held a trace of his old amusement, but underneath it, he sounded tired.

                She let out an exasperated sigh.  “If you’re in town, why have I spent my entire day fixing your club’s problems?  I had other plans!”   It was a lie, but he wouldn’t know that.  Mind reading was _not_ a gift he’d been blessed with, particularly with regard to her.  She spun around and hit the lights, revealing a blinking Lucifer, sitting in the armchair in the far corner.  He swung an arm up over his eyes dramatically. 

                “Augh, Maze, is there a reason to blind me?”

                “You’re lucky if I that’s all I do,” she snapped.

                He smiled at her, his bleary eyes revealing how much he’d had to drink already.  “If you want to punish me, you only had to ask.”

                “I wanted to get some sleep, but as usual, you’ve turned up after all the work is done.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Fine. I guess I’ll go home. I saved your ass as usual - you’re welcome.”   

                She stormed out, looking in the dark for her shoes and heartily wishing she hadn’t removed them.  Tripping yourself trying to put stilettos back on your feet in the dark was a walk-of-shame look more suited to a drunk sorority girl than Hell’s Greatest Torturer.  She heard him calling after her, but ignored him until he materialized between her and the elevator.

                “Give it a rest, David Copperfield.  You know I can leave no matter what you do to stop me.”

                “But I don’t want you to leave!”

                 She glared at him.  “I’m not your emotional support animal, Lucifer.  I’ve already done more for you than you deserve today.”

                “I agree!”

                “So this is the part where you move, and I leave.”

                He smiled down at her.  “Maze, you’ve got one shoe on.  If you leave now, you’ll be at a disadvantage, and who knows _what_ could be lurking out there.  By the way, you look spectacular, even for you.”

                Maze felt the corners of her mouth turn up despite herself, and ducked her head to hide her face, looking for her missing shoe.  She found it and stood up awkwardly, losing her balance for a second.  Lucifer put a hand on her shoulder to steady her and she straightened, smelling the whiskey on his breath.  He’d had even more to drink than she had, from the smell of it, yet she reminded herself that his drunkenness was most likely a performance designed to win her sympathy.  He always forgot she had none. 

                The thought had hardly had a chance to register when she realized he’d pushed her up against the elevator door.  His face was inches from hers and he smelled like he always had, whiskey and nicotine and some kind of cologne that made her weak in the knees despite herself. 

                “The club is still at least half full of women who haven’t gotten a better offer if you need comfort or entertainment or - whatever it is you’re looking for tonight,” she told him in her sweetest tone.  “They don’t know that your first choice left town the second she saw the real you.  I do.”

                She expected him to let her go at that, but he didn’t, although any trace of humor left his eyes.  “I do, too.”  He reached up and pushed the hair back behind her ear, very slowly, and then leaned over to whisper in it.  “I know there’s only one woman who likes the real me.”  He drew back and his eyes lit up with the scarlet of Hell’s fires, his mouth curving into a smirk as Maze leaned closer, despite herself, her mouth falling open slightly.

_If Chloe was here, he’d-_

                She drew back before his lips touched hers, flinching as her head hit the door. 

                “Not any more, Lucifer.”

                “Are you sure?”  His fingers were in her hair again, stroking it back behind her ear. “Why were you alone tonight?  There was no shortage of talent downstairs.”

                “I told you. I had plans, which I interrupted when Bria called me in a panic. Had you answered your phone, I’d be very well occupied tonight.”

                His eyes flickered red again at the possibility she was telling the truth, and despite herself, her heart surged.  _Jealousy?_ It was not something she had ever seen from him.  Certainly, he thought he owned her, but not in that sense.  Not that she wanted to be owned. 

                …did she? 

_I really should…_

                She twisted around, trying to leave, but only ended up with her back to him.  He pressed up against her and she felt herself arch back into him, _habit,_ she told herself, but she knew she was losing her resolve. He felt so good and it had been so long…and he was whispering in her ear again.

                “You’re here now.  Stay with me, Maze.  Bring in the new year.  Remember the things I did to you in 1548?”  Her neck tickled as he began to nuzzle his way down it and she shivered. 

                She turned back around to face him.  “632 was my favorite, actually.”

                “A.D. or B.C.?” he whispered and she laughed despite herself.    

                “Do you even _remember_ 632 B.C.?” she asked.

                In answer, he bit her earlobe and she gasped.  “The Devil is in the details, as they say.”  She slipped one hand between the buttons of his shirt, watching with pleasure the look on his face when she touched his bare skin. He gave her his naughtiest smile.

                “Of course, if you’d rather talk about our relationship and what a jerk I’ve been-“

                “Shut up, Lucifer,” she replied and pulled his head down to hers, meeting his evil chuckle with her own.  There would be plenty of time to talk over the next million years, after all.   


End file.
